Ducks and Bows
by the-angel-of-words
Summary: Erik struggles to come to terms with a horrible loss


"_Come on, Christine, I need to you breathe."_

"_Breathe, angel. Take my hand. I'm here. Our baby's almost here."_

"_Doctor..."_

"_What's wrong? Something's wrong! My baby..."_

"_Keep breathing, but don't push."_

"_Erik? What's wrong?"_

"_Please, doctor. Is our baby okay?"_

"_He's out."_

"_He's not crying. What is wrong? Let me see my son!"_

"_I'm sorry..."_

The whole scene repeated in Erik's mind over and over. Everything was fine. The heart monitor beeped along happily, even during the hard labor. Things moved too fast for them to give Christine an epidural, and her guttural cries had ripped him to the bone. Nearly nine hours passed since her first contraction, until the doctor declared it was finally time for her to push. The blanket Erik had bought especially for this day lay at the ready, its soft white material spotted with small yellow ducks and blue bows. He never left her side, always offering his hand to squeeze during the moments of agony, wiping her brow free of sweat, and kissing her cheek to remind her she wasn't alone. It was just as Erik imagined it-what could go wrong?

"_Erik...what is he talking about? Where's our son? I don't hear him. Why isn't he crying?"_

Erik stared out the window and chewed his lip as the memories continued to hammer at his mind. The nurse had whisked the baby away and out of their sight as the doctor silently tended to Christine. Her demands deteriorated into sharp screams again as the afterbirth came forth. The grip of her hand nearly broke two of Erik's fingers, but instead of wrenching away he merely gritted his teeth and braced himself. Within seconds, Christine collapsed on the bed again and fought to catch her breath. Erik rubbed his hand and moved to the other side of the room, where the nurse stood bent over the bassinet. As he drew closer, the unmistakable sight of his son's tiny hand came into view. It was blue.

"_Erik! What's happening to him?!"_

A small cry racked his chest as he buried his face into his hands. The dismal rain beat at the window, but the rhythmic sound brought him no comfort. Across his lap lay the soft blanket, its ducks and bows still brightly colored. It had been nearly a month already, but if Erik concentrated hard enough, he could still smell their son on it. The nurse had wrapped him in the blanket once he was clean, and carefully picked him up from the bassinet. She looked up at Erik and fought not to cry as she handed him the baby.

"_He's so small..."_

"_I'm so sorry."_

Erik pulled the blanket to his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, sending thick tears down his cheeks. He leaned back in the rocking chair and suppressed another cry. He could still envision the doctor before him as he cradled his son, but the man's words hadn't registered at first.

"_...cord was around his neck...nothing we could have done...so sorry..."_

He held their son for a full moment, his eyes drifting over his tiny body to try and understand _why_ he wasn't crying or moving. Christine was almost in a panic, and the nurses had to physically stop her from climbing off the bed. Erik turned towards her, his eyes never leaving their son. He moved closer and held him out for her to take. The second she saw his lifeless face, Christine started to scream.

"_Calm down, Mrs. Durand."_

"_Don't you fucking tell her to calm down. Get out. All of you. Leave us alone."_

The severity in Erik's voice had chilled his own blood, but they did as he said and closed the door behind them. Christine held their baby close to her chest as she sobbed, her face already soaked with tears. Erik sank to his knees next to the bed, his hands gripping the rail.

"_Why? Erik... Why?!"_

He looked up from the blanket to see that he had fallen to his knees in the nursery. The rocking chair swayed behind him, as though lulling an invisible mother and child. The silence in the house was deafening. Christine would no doubt be in the living room, her eyes glued to the television. She never came near the nursery. The mere sight of its contents sent her into a crippling panic.

_"Erik... Why? Erik..."_

"Erik?"

He whirled to see Christine standing in the nursery's doorway. Clad as always in her cream colored robe, her face was drawn with dark circles beneath her eyes. Sleep had not been a luxury in her life since she was pregnant. In her hands was a large mug, the tea bag's label draped across the back of her hand. She didn't move any closer, nor did she acknowledge the item in Erik's hands.

"What are you doing in here?"

Erik sat back on his heels and gripped the blanket to his chest. "I...was just..."

_"What are you doing in here?!"_

_"We're here to take him, ma'am."_

_"No! You can't have him!"_

_"Christine... You need to let him go. It's been hours. He's..."_

_"I don't care! He's my son! They can't have him!"_

"I was just sitting here...watching the rain. Thinking."

"About what?"

Erik looked down at the blanket in his hands and bit his lip.

"_Mr. Durand? I need a name. For your son. For his certificates."_

"_What do you mean? Certificates?"_

"_For his birth and death records."_

"_Oh."_

"_Do you have a name you wanted to give him? I can mark them simply as 'Baby' if you wish."_

"_No. He should have a name."_

"Nathan." The name was a mere whisper on his lips, but loud enough for Christine to hear. A low sigh eased from her lips and she took a large sip of tea.

"What about him?"

"It's been a month. Today."

"Has it?" She stared down at her tea and closed her eyes. "Already?"

"I thought this was supposed to get easier."

"I don't think it ever will."

Erik climbed to his feet and slowly approached her. At first Christine started to move away, her eyes flickering with slight disdain to the blanket in his hands. Erik wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her neck. She stiffened a bit, but then leaned against him and slid her free hand along his back.

"I miss him," she breathed as the tears started to form.

"_Erik? Where is he? I need him. I miss him."_

"_He's gone, angel."_

"_I want him back."_

The birthing room was eerily empty and dim. Erik held Christine for hours as they both cried. Only one nurse stopped by to check on her each hour, but she never said a word. By the time night fell, they moved Christine to a regular room on a general medical floor; the doctor mentioned wanting to spare her the sight of mothers and their own babies in the OB ward. Erik readily agreed and then demanded a cot so he could stay with her. Christine woke several times during the first night amidst nightmares and panic, screaming and crying for their baby. Each time, Erik would hold her close, but each time, she drifted farther and farther into her own mind. When morning rose, she had given up sleep and descended into a near-catatonic state.

"_She's in shock." _

"_Well give her something then!"_

"_There's nothing we can do, Mr. Durand. She needs to come to terms with this on her own."_

"_How long will that take?"_

"_I can't answer that. But it will get easier with time."_

Erik hugged her tighter and kissed her cheek. She hadn't let him this close since that first night in the hospital, and he realized how starved for her touch he had been. Nathan's blanket fell over her shoulder and Erik leaned away to gently kiss her lips.

"I've missed _you_, angel."

Christine looked up at him as tears streamed down her cheeks, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "You don't hate me?"

Erik took a step back, his jaw dropping. "_Why_ would I hate you?!"

"Because I killed our son," she sobbed.

"No. No no no. Never say that again. Christine..." He took her by the hand and guided her inside the nursery. She cried even more, resisting him at first. Before she could protest though, he took the tea from her hand, set it aside, and guided her into his lap on the rocking chair.

"He would be a month old now...if I hadn't..." She gripped his collar and released a horrid cry.

"Angel... This wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault."

"Why? Why him?"

Erik urged her to sit up so he could wipe her cheeks. He pressed the blanket into her hands. "He was too perfect for this world."

Christine drew the blanket to her face and kissed it. "What should we do? With his blanket...his things...?"

"Save them. I'm sure Nathan would want his little brother or sister to have them."

"You want to try again?" Her words were filled with guarded hope, but her eyes still shone with despair.

"I do. If you want to."

Christine nodded and fell into his arms. "I'm scared, Erik."

"Me too. But, I had a thought."

"What's that?"

He turned his head to meet her eyes and swallowed his tears. "Our second child will have a very special guardian angel."


End file.
